Читать книгу The Complete Darkwar Trilogy: Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 25

KASPAR STRODE INTO THE ROOM.

Talwin Hawkins and Caleb both nodded greeting.

‘It’s done,’ said Kaspar.

‘Political asylum?’ asked Caleb.

‘Of a sort. But it will do for our purposes.’

‘It’s good to have friends in high places,’ said Tal.

They were in a small room in the back of an inn, located in a different district of the city from where Caleb and the boys were staying, one frequented by foreigners and those from distant corners of the Empire. The coming and going of three obviously non-Keshians would not draw attention here. It was late and the city was quieting down, though this area was replete with revellers, as the plaza outside was frequented by the youth of this district. Against his better judgment, Caleb had left the boys outside near a fountain where a dozen or so young boys and girls had gathered. Still, he suspected they would find less trouble out in the open than if he left them in their room next to the two Trueblood girls, their excitable mother, and their personal bodyguard.

When he had finally seen the man, he wondered, like Tal had said, if he was really human.

‘Turgan Bey has told me what his agents have discovered, so far,’ said Kaspar. A pewter pitcher rested on the table and he poured himself a cup of wine. Drinking it, he made a face. ‘We should chuck this business and set up a wine importer from Ravensburg and some of the districts in the Eastern Kingdoms. We’d make a fortune if this is the best they have.’

‘This is not the River House,’ said Tal with a smile, referring to the restaurant he had established in Roldem. ‘And this is not the best wine that can be had in Kesh, as you know.’

Caleb took a sip. ‘It is, however, the best that can be had here.’

Kaspar leaned forward. ‘There is no pattern in the deaths, save one. Every murdered noble, Trueblood or not, is part of a loose alliance of Lords and Masters who are favourable to the ascension of Prince Sezioti to the throne when Diigai finally dies.’

Caleb said, ‘And is that supposed to happen any time soon?’

‘You tell me,’ said Kaspar. ‘Your father and brother are more likely to understand the information on the Emperor’s use of magic to extend his life than anyone.

‘But it’s clear from what Bey told me that many of the Lords and Masters are unhappy with him being the first Emperor to do so. His predecessor, Empress Leikesha, made it to over ninety on sheer spite – according to what I’ve been told she may have been the toughest old boot to ever sit on that throne – so the extra ten years or so for Diigai isn’t a problem yet, but it’s his use of magic that is. Seems the opinion of a majority of the rules of Great Kesh is the old boy is losing his political edge. He spends most of his time with his courtesans – which at his age, I think is heroic – and many of his edicts seem capricious. But none of them alter significant policy, so the level of distress over his current rule hasn’t reached a critical juncture, but the Gallery of Lords and Masters’ collective patience is wearing thin, and eventually the Emperor will be pressured to name an heir.’

‘Sezioti is a scholar who is respected, but not admired.’ Kaspar went on to tell them the rest of what Turgan Bey had shared about the politics of the Empire.

‘So,’ said Tal, ‘we can assume someone is trying very carefully to reduce Sezioti’s chances to rise to the throne, in favour of Dangai. Why?’

‘If the Nighthawks were not involved,’ said Caleb, ‘I would assume it’s the usual bloody Keshian politics. But with the Guild of Death working here, we must assume Leso Varen’s hand is in there somewhere, which means whatever he wants, we want the opposite.’

Kaspar stood. ‘I can’t stay. I am no doubt being followed, and while they know Tal and I are in contact, they don’t know about you. I suggest you leave last.’ Caleb nodded. ‘There’s a reception at the townhouse of Lord Gresh in a week,’ Kaspar said to Tal. ‘See if you can get yourself invited. It’s just your sort of crew: a lot of libertines, bored noble wives, curious daughters, degenerate gamblers, and hot-blooded boys looking to make a name for themselves by killing someone famous. You should be able to make half a dozen enemies in one night with some luck.’

Tal regarded Kaspar with a dour expression. ‘I’ll try my best.’

‘I’ll send Pasko with word as soon as I know anything worth reporting to you,’ said Kaspar, and he left.

Tal said, ‘He’s almost certainly right about being followed. I’ll leave next, and then you should wait a bit. Do you think you can get through the commons without being spotted?’

‘If no one saw me enter, yes,’ said Caleb. ‘And I was here for a full half-hour before either of you arrived, so I think I’m safe.

‘Still, now that we know Kaspar and you are being watched, I should undertake to be more cautious in the future. I’ll make arrangements so our next meeting is more secure.’

Tal glanced around the room. ‘What about being observed by … other means?’

Caleb reached into his belt purse and pulled out a small item. He handed it to Tal who looked at it. It appeared nothing more than a carved bone icon, some obscure household god, perhaps. ‘Nasur, a magician of the Lesser Path on my father’s island, made this. It prevents scrying or other magical eavesdropping. As long as I have it, no one can see or hear us by magical arts.’

Tal said, ‘A good thing to have. You wouldn’t have an extra one, would you?’

‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you. If you are being marked by Varen’s agents, they might be using arts to see or hear you. If you vanish from their ability to detect you here, why it’s simply a case of something not working right, or perhaps you or Kaspar ensuring this room was safe. If you vanish from sight all the time, they’ll know you’re more than what you appear to be.’

‘And what do I appear to be?’

‘Right now both you and Kaspar are agents of the Crown of Roldem, and not very good ones at that. It took some very aggressive rumour mongering to get that one spread in the right quarters.

‘Kesh is always nervous about Roldem, because of their navy. Give them something obvious and reasonable to worry about, and they won’t spend a lot of time concerning themselves with the subtle. No one who isn’t working for Varen even suspects the Conclave exists here in Kesh.’

‘Except for those agents in the government who work for the Conclave.’

Caleb nodded. ‘It’s taken my father years to get to the place he is right now. We have friends in very high positions in courts all over the world, without the entanglements of being obliged to any one government.

‘Now, it’s time for you to go and should I need to see you, I’ll send one of the boys with a message.’

Tal rose, shook hands with Caleb, then left. As he reached the door he turned and said, ‘When this is all over, would you like to head up to Kendrick’s and do some hunting for a few days?’

Caleb grinned. ‘After we see the wives for a bit, yes. That would be welcomed.’

Tal returned the smile and left.

Caleb sat back, content to wait for another hour before leaving, to ensure he wasn’t being followed. He idly wondered how the boys were doing.

Zane struck the ground, sliding backwards on his rump. He hit the edge of the fountain hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Tad shouted, ‘What was that for?’ as he leaped between Zane and the young man who had just pushed him hard enough to knock him over.

The fellow stopped and said, ‘What’s it to you?’

‘That’s my brother you just shoved.’

The fellow was large, and brutish looking, with massive shoulders and a thick brow. His chin receded slightly, which gave him an almost malevolent expression when he grinned. ‘And that’s my girl he was talking to.’

The girl in question, a plump but very pretty blonde who had moments before been flirting with both boys, shouted, ‘I am not your girl, Arkmet. Stop telling people I am.’

‘You’re my girl if I say you are,’ he said with a sound that came close to an animal growl.

Tad smiled. ‘She says she’s not your girl.’

Arkmet pushed at Tad, but unlike Zane he was ready. He bent his right knee, while extending his left leg, grabbed Arkmet’s outstretched left hand at the wrist and gave it a tug before releasing it. Meeting no resistance, the heavier boy went crashing face down on the cobbles.

Zane was back on his feet and standing next to Tad when the larger youngster rolled over. His face was flushed and he said, ‘You shouldn’t have done that!’

Standing side by side, both boys were ready for a fight, and Zane said, ‘We’re not starting anything, fellow, but if you want to take us on alone, we’re ready.’

With another evil grin, the young man on the ground slowly rose and said, ‘Who said I was alone?’

The boys looked behind themselves and saw that a group of large boys gathered. ‘And who are you?’ asked Tad.

A blond lad said, ‘We’re the apprentices of the Bakers’ Guild.’ He hiked his thumb over his shoulder to the four boys who stood behind him. ‘Arkmet is an apprentice baker.’

Tad looked at Zane and rolled his eyes. ‘So he’s a friend of yours?’

The blond lad said, ‘No, pretty much none of us can abide the slug, but we have a rule. You hit one Bakers’ Boy, you hit all of us.’

Zane said, ‘Wish someone had told us that before we got here.’

Until a moment ago, Tad and Zane had been lazing around the fountain, flirting with some approachable local girls. The plaza seemed to be frequented by young men and women from other parts of the Empire, youngsters who were far more amenable to speaking with two boys from the distant Vale of Dreams.

‘I don’t suppose there’s a Guild of Boys From Other Parts of the Empire around here,’ said Zane, glancing first one way, then the other. Several young men were giving the coming battle a wide berth, but one boy of roughly the same age as Tad and Zane came and stood beside them.

‘Six to two’s no kind of fair dust-up.’ He was large, with powerful shoulders, a red-headed boy with a preposterous amount of freckles across his face, green eyes, and hands the size of a smith’s hammer. With an almost demonic grin he said, ‘But six to three seems a little better.’

One of the Bakers’ Boys said, ‘Ah, Jommy, not again?’

The red-headed boy cocked his right fist next to his ear, and with his left hand beckoned the bakers’ apprentices to approach. ‘Always, mate. I love a chance to put your flour-dusted butts in a sling. Com’on!’

The resolve seemed to leach out of the five apprentices, just as a bellowing shout came from behind. Zane and Tad turned, but nothing as fast as the redhead, who turned with stunning speed and with a straight punch caught Arkmet right in the face. The bully’s eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the ground, blood fountaining from his broken nose.

Jommy turned and said, ‘Five to three; even better!’

‘You’re a madman,’ said the blond baker’s apprentice.

Jommy held up his hands palms out. ‘I realize you boys have your sense of honour and duty, but come on. Do you really want to bleed for that lout?’

The blond lad looked at the four who stood behind him and just from the way they exchanged glances told Tad and Zane the fight wasn’t going to start. ‘Not really,’ said the blond boy. ‘The last time you hit me I couldn’t hear out of my left ear for three days.’

‘Well, you bully boys of the Bakers’ Guild should realize that you’re not bloody damn cocks-of-the-walk around here and start treating others with respect, mate. Now take your idiot friend here home and leave well-meaning strangers alone.’

The five bakers’ apprentices helped the still groggy Arkmet to his feet and led him away. Zane turned to see the blonde girl had somehow vanished during all the trouble, while Tad stuck out his hand and said, ‘Thank you, my friend.’

‘No worries,’ said the affable redhead. ‘Name’s Jommy Kiliroo.’

‘You’re not from around here, are you?’ asked Zane.

‘Ha!’ said the boy. ‘Far from home.’

Caleb walked up. ‘If I recognize that accent, very far,’ he said. ‘I saw what happened.’ To Tad and Zane, he said, ‘You boys managed to avoid a fair beating it seems.’

‘Probably would have taken one, if it hadn’t been for Jommy here,’ said Zane.

‘Ah, most of the bakers’ lads aren’t really too bad a lot, but that Arkmet is a real canted bastard, if you take my meaning. He’s going to end up hung for murder, mark my words.’

‘You’re from around Serpent River?’

The young man’s face went alight. ‘You’ve been down there, have you?’

‘A couple of times. Where are you from?’

‘Mooree, little town a couple of days upriver from Shingazi’s Landing.’

‘How’d you come to Kesh?’

‘That’s a long story in the telling. The short of it is my mate Rolie and I got tossed out of our homes by our fathers, who told us to be on our way and start our own lives. We worked our way downriver to the City of the Serpent River and tried to get jobs, but if you’ve been there, you know everything is controlled by the clans. Not ashamed to say I took up a little thievery to get by. Ol’ Rolie and me got a berth on a Keshian ship, bound for Elarial. We had no better prospects, so we signed on and became sailors. Only one voyage for me to tell it wasn’t my kind of life, so when we berthed, we took our pay and left. Got jobs as teamsters and, well, one thing leads to another. Ol’ Rolie got himself killed in a brawl up in the town of Chigatha, and I just kept working the caravans, and here I am. Been stranded here for almost a year now.’

‘Where do you live?’ asked Tad.

‘Here and there. Weather’s warm most of the time so sleeping in an alley or by a fountain’s not a problem. Once in a while I find a girl who takes me home.’ He inclined his head to the fountain. ‘Most of the youngsters from other places come around here, so there’s less trouble, unless a bunch like those bakers’ lads show up. I’ve mixed with them before, and they remember.’ He grinned. ‘Now, how’d you find your way to Novindus?’

‘That’s a long story, too,’ said Caleb. ‘How’d you like me to stand you to a meal and a warm bed?’

‘Find by me, but I’d rather find steady work. Truth to tell, this city may be the greatest in the world, but it’s a fair bastard on a lad without family or guild, and that’s the truth.’

‘Walk with us,’ said Caleb, ‘and I’ll tell you about my trips to your homeland.’

Tad and Zane exchanged questioning looks, but said nothing. But they had an odd feeling that somehow they had let a stray dog follow them home and fed it. What they didn’t know is if the dog would bite.

Zane stood quietly next to Caleb as he examined the religious, icons. Tad had been sent on a pointless errand with Jommy, who it seemed had attached himself to Caleb and the boys with no apparent effort. They had sat around the table at the inn the night before and exchanged stories, and Tad and Zane both had found the new boy likeable, amusing, and a reasonable companion. Caleb hadn’t told either of his stepsons why he had decided to keep Jommy close, but given how difficult this city could be, and how handy the large redhead was in a brawl, they were glad of the addition.

Caleb examined and ordered a full half-dozen pieces before picking up the hawk. It was not the same icon as the one on the amulet worn by the Nighthawks, but it was close. ‘I don’t recognize this,’ said Caleb.

The merchant, named Mudara, said, ‘It is strange to me, as well. I purchased it from a boy, a beggar or thief perhaps, but before that, its provenance is unknown. I have seen similar icons from time to time, but not one quite like this.’ He was a thin, nervous man, with a beak of a nose and a receding chin. His eyes, however, showed a man of shrewd judgment, an experienced businessman who should not be underestimated.

Caleb shrugged, as if it was of little importance, and he looked at two others before returning to the hawk. ‘You say you’ve seen others almost like this?’

‘Yes. There’s a sect of worshippers of Lims-Kragma, far to the south. They come to the city from time to time, and they can be identified by an amulet they wear. I do not know what they are called.’

Caleb ordered two more items, and said, ‘I will not need the hawk amulet. If, as you say, it is worn by a minor sect far to the south, none of their faithful will be found in Krondor.’ The merchant looked slightly disappointed and immediately began showing other pieces. After a moment, Caleb returned to the hawk. He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I am being hasty.’ Hope spread across the merchant’s face. He had already realized more profit from this one transaction than he earned in a month, but like all of his class, he was anxious for even more. ‘As a curio, perhaps. You say you haven’t seen one exactly like this, but others that are close?’

‘Yes, my friend,’ said Mudara. ‘They are heavier, iron or a metal blend I think, and worn with a stout chain. Under the tunic, as a rule.’

‘Do you think you can find some of those?’

Instantly the man’s face became expressionless. ‘Not of those, I fear. But I have a source for these, if you can wait a week. There are many fine craftsmen in the city who can duplicate anything you give them to copy.’

Caleb shrugged. ‘For my buyers, authenticity is required. They are … collectors, and have no interest in cheap imitations. If you can get some of those medallions you speak of, contact me at the Three Willows. I will be here another two weeks. Send a message to Caleb.’

They finished their transaction and shook, and Caleb departed. As they walked, Caleb said, ‘I want you to hang around this plaza for the rest of the day and watch that merchant. Try not to be seen, but if he does catch a glimpse of you, smile and wave like you’re just about my business. Look at some merchandise, but keep your eyes on him. If he talks to anyone, mark them. If he leaves, follow him, but under no circumstances let him see you following him. If it comes to it, I’d rather have you give up the chase and return to the Three Willows than get spied out. We can always follow him another time. Do you understand?’

Zane nodded, and moved at once to another part of the plaza, so he might circle around and come back to the merchant unseen. Caleb walked purposefully towards Chezarul’s shop, for he needed an experienced agent to track the merchant. He wanted Zane off the man’s trail as soon as possible, but in case the merchant left before one of Chezarul’s men could replace him, he needed eyes on the man. Caleb cursed himself for not thinking of this before he went to see the merchant. He knew his mind wasn’t on the tasks his father had set before him, and now he understood the risks his father had spoken of before he had met Marie. Having people around you about whom you worry is a distraction and makes you vulnerable. He never should have brought the boys with him, he thought.

Zane watched as the market began to build up with people seeking to buy goods on their way home from their own work. Zane knew from experience that this flurry of shopping would end quickly and then the market would soon become deserted as the merchants and their helpers rapidly broke down stalls and tables then carted goods away. He had watched in amazement the first time when the entire market square went from so crowded it was almost impossible to move without jostling someone to deserted in less than an hour. He was almost certain Mudara had not noticed him, but he knew that as soon as the stalls began to break down, hiding would be more difficult.

Zane started looking for a vantage point and spied a deep doorway in which he could hide. He slipped into it and watched. As he anticipated, Mudara was anxious to be on his way to place his order with his suppliers for the items Caleb had purchased. He was among the first to close down his stall and put his amulets and icons into a deep bag. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and quickly moved away.

Zane fell in behind him. He knew that no one was likely to find him now, and was determined not to let Caleb down. He tried his hardest not to skulk and draw attention to himself, but he felt obvious and self-conscious. He kept people between himself and Mudara, and was pleased that the merchant never paused or looked over his shoulder.

They left the crowded streets of the prosperous merchants’ quarters and entered what looked to be a less populated section of the city, dominated by warehouses and the other businesses Zane associated with commerce, leather workers, stables, cartwrights, wheelwrights, an office for porters, and an office that appeared to provide mercenary guards.

Mudara entered a business establishment that had copious amounts of smoke coming from a stone chimney in the rear, and the sounds of hammers ringing out on metal filled the air, despite the late hour. Zane assumed this was the where he had his icons and amulets cast.

Zane couldn’t tell how much time passed while Mudara conducted business inside, but it seemed like hours. It was dark when the man finally came out, and Zane watched him from a vantage point behind some large crates sitting outside a currently unoccupied warehouse.

He decided to follow the man. Either the merchant would go home or lead him to another supplier. The merchant again paid no heed to his surroundings nor appeared to be concerned about being followed, and hurried along.

Zane dodged the occasional passerby, and kept the merchant in his sights. Soon, Mudara’s manner changed, and Zane almost was spotted as the merchant suddenly turned to see if he was being followed. It was only by chance that Zane had been deep in a shadow at that moment, else he would have been found out.

Zane realized at that moment that this was exactly the sort of behaviour Caleb had warned him to be cautious of. The merchant was going somewhere he did not wish to be observed, and without understanding why, Zane knew it was dangerous.

Caleb had impressed on both boys the risks they would face with the life that had been thrust upon them, and for the first time Zane fully understood what Caleb had meant. His mouth was dry and his heart pounded, but Zane mustered his courage and stalked the merchant.

Zane kept track of turns and occasional landmarks, for he was now deep into a district of the city alien to him. He had a sense that this was not the place to be found alone after dark. There was a foreboding aspect to this quarter, streets lacking lanterns and distant, hushed voices. A woman laughed in the night, a harsh shrill sound and Zane knew there was no joy in that sound.

Mudara turned a corner and Zane hurried, then peeked around. On the opposite side of the street, the merchant stood before an unmarked door, knocking loudly, in an odd pattern. One strike, then a pause, then two, then one again, then three.

The door opened and the hair on the back of Zane’s neck rose and a shiver passed through his body. In the doorway stood a man clad in black, his features unseen in the shadows. But the tunic, trousers, and head-covering were exactly as had been described to him before leaving Sorcerer’s Isle. The man was an Izmali assassin, a Keshian Nighthawk.

Mudara spoke rapidly to him and handed him the amulet. The assassin was not pleased to see him and looked out past him, glancing first one way up the street then the other. Zane prayed the man had no special powers, for he knew should he be discovered his life would be forfeit.

Zane watched the two men argue, for it was clear from Mudara’s gestures that he was attempting to convince the assassin of something. Mudara raised his voice, and Zane could hear him say, ‘… worth the risk. If these are the ones we were warned of, we may use them to lead us to …’ the assassin gestured with his hand to lower his voice, and Mudara complied. Zane could not hear what was said after. The assassin spoke softly for a moment longer, and then stepped back into the building, closing the door in Mudara’s face. The merchant turned his back towards Zane and started moving down the street.

Zane began to follow after him, when two powerful hands grabbed him from behind and spun him. Before he could say a word a powerful hand clamped down over his mouth and a voice in his ear said, ‘If you want to stay alive, say nothing.’

Zane’s heart felt as if it would explode out of his chest, but he managed to keep his wits and nod.

The hand released him and a man with a heavy dark beard whispered, ‘Follow me and say nothing until I tell you it is safe.’

He hurried away and Zane followed. They spent the better part of a half-hour ducking in and out of shadowed doors and passing through alleys. After they reached a more populated and better lit section of the city the man turned and said, ‘You are Zane?’

‘I am,’ said the young man, out of breath and his knees trembling from exhaustion and fear.

‘Chezarul sent me to find you in the plaza, but you were leaving behind the merchant when I got there. You followed him, and I followed you, for I feared that should I overtake you, the merchant might have seen us.’

Zane nodded. ‘Why did you grab me, then?’

‘If you had followed after the merchant from where I found you, you would have been killed. It is their practice to leave their meetings by a false path, and any who follow are slain. We lost four good men until we discovered their practice.’

‘Who are they?’

‘The Guild of Death. The Nighthawks,’ said the bearded man. ‘I am Choyoba.’ He looked around. ‘Come. I will take you back to the Three Willows.’ Zane nodded and followed the man.

‘You did well,’ said Chezarul to Zane.

Caleb nodded agreement. ‘Yes, you did.’

Zane was too drained by the experience to even smile. He just nodded.

‘So now you know where to find the Nighthawks?’ asked Tad.

Chezarul shook his head and said, ‘No, my young friend. The Nighthawks have found us.’

When Tad’s expression showed he didn’t understand, Caleb said, ‘It’s a trap.’

‘A trap?’ asked Zane.

Caleb said, ‘The mock amulet was put there so that I, or someone else from the Conclave, would find it. Anyone else would have ignored it or even purchased it as a charm, but for me to inquire about one that was similar, that signalled to the Nighthawks that I was seeking them. It may have been out there for months. It’s the sort of thing that would be of no interest to anyone but us.

‘And we are “taking the bait”.’

‘I don’t see …’ began Tad.

‘The Nighthawks are setting traps. They know that with the killings in the city it would only be a matter of time before we investigate,’ said Caleb. ‘So they put out a false amulet, one that looks enough like their own society’s mark that anyone looking for the Guild of Death would be curious as to its origin.

‘We did as they expected us to do. We inquired, and they deliver what we ask. The argument you observed was probably over telling us no to the true amulets, and then trying to follow us from the market, or agreeing to give us copies, then setting a trap: when we come to pick up the goods, they will either take us or, more likely, follow us back here to see where we are based. Then comes the killing.’

Chezarul said, ‘These murderous dogs are a plague on the peace of our city. More, they’re bad for business. We shall see an end to them one day, and I hope that day is near.’ He turned to Caleb. ‘Avoid the market tomorrow. I need to make preparations for our coming encounter, and some of my men are out of the city. Give me two days to muster my forces, then go see this merchant. In three days they will come here, and we shall be ready for them.’

‘Pablo will not be pleased we’re going to turn his inn into a battlefield,’ said Caleb.

‘Nothing so bad happens that Pablo’s humour can not be improved by gold,’ said Chezarul. ‘Besides, in his way he’s as steadfast as any of us.’

Caleb nodded and said, ‘Very well. I shall take the boys riding tomorrow, out of the city towards the shores of the Overn. We will be looking at something or another out there, perhaps exotic fish caught in the lake.’

Chezarul grinned. ‘Crocodiles, perhaps?’

‘Something. We shall return in two days and see Mudara.

‘Good,’ said the trader. ‘Until then, I bid you good night.’

He left and Caleb said, ‘Tad, go to the common room and tell Jommy he can come up now.’

Tad left, and Zane said, ‘Are you planning on keeping Jommy around?’

‘I think so, for a time. He’s a rough and tumble sort of lad, and moreover, being from Novindus means he’s unlikely to have any ties to the Nighthawks. And there’s something about him I like.’

Zane nodded. ‘He stood with Tad and me without cause.’

‘He had cause,’ said Caleb. ‘A sense of fairness most people lack.’

Tad and Jommy came into the room and Caleb said, ‘Jommy, can you ride?’

‘Well enough to not fall off if we’re not in too great a hurry,’ answered the red-headed boy.

Caleb said, ‘Good, because we’re riding out to the lakeshore tomorrow and I’d like you to come along.’

‘A job?’

‘Of sorts,’ said Caleb. ‘I’ll tell you about it as we ride. For now, get some sleep.’

The three boys left Caleb’s room and crossed the hall to their own. Pablo Maguire had brought up a straw-stuffed pallet the previous evening at Caleb’s request and Zane now unrolled it and put it between the two beds. Jommy flopped on it, and Tad said, ‘I hope that’s not proving to be too hard for you.’

Jommy laughed. ‘I’ve been sleeping on stone and dirt for most of the last year, and my last bed was a hammock in a ship at sea. I haven’t seen a proper bed to call my own since my dad threw me out. This’ll suit me just fine.’

Tad blew out the lantern and the room was plunged into darkness. Tad and Jommy were both quickly asleep, but Zane lay there, the image of a black-clad killer barely seen in the doorway lingering in his mind.